


Something In Your Eyes

by christinefromsherwood



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward ArtStudent!Steve, Barista!Bucky, Idiots in Love, M/M, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After ogling Bucky (and pining after him) for a couple of weeks Steve finally decides to go into the coffee shop and actually order something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singthestars/gifts).



> Yes, I too joined the Dark Side and wrote a Coffee Shop AU, Katie. :) And this one is just for you. 
> 
> Consider it, please, your rather belated Squishy Christmas gift. 
> 
> I hope you like it.

Steve rearranged the strap of his heavy laptop bag on his shoulder and pushed open the door. There was no use delaying opening it anymore, really. After all, no sane person would be standing in front of a heavily frequented café and simply staring through the window for a period of time longer than five minutes.

Of course, it would be another story if he had been talking on his phone or maybe rummaging for change in his wallet, but simply standing there and staring at the gorgeous barista without going in was bound to appear suspicious to someone really soon. And so Steve decided to bite the bullet and go in.

He stopped almost as soon as he stepped over the threshold as his nose was assaulted with the most delicious scents of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon. The smell of the pecan pies was so intense it almost had Steve reaching for his inhaler. However, he felt that if he was to go while smelling delicious pastries, it wouldn’t perhaps be such a bad way to leave this world.

The crowd in the coffee shop was rather dense and the line in front of the barista particularly long. Steve, however, felt that was just as well; waiting in the line would give him an ample opportunity to stare some more and more importantly, come up with what he wanted to order.

It wasn’t that Steve disliked coffee entirely, for example he loved the way it smelled, he just wasn’t overly fond of the way it tasted, or the way his mouth tasted afterwards. He could bear it if he put lots of cream and sugar in, that’s what he did when he stayed over at Peggy’s, but from the looks of it, there’d be no Vanilla Late Macchiato for him today, even the price of the espresso had his eyes bulging out of his head.

But oh God! Was that even possible? Was that even legal to have cheekbones like that? Steve seriously doubted that. Surely, if smoking cigarettes was banned in public places because it endangered public health, those smoking hot looks had to be outlawed as well!

Steve giggled and blushed a little as he imagined himself using that as a line when it was his turn to order coffee.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to the harried-looking girl with a stash of papers in front of her face who gave him an annoyed look with just the right dash of desperation and unbridled fury at his noise. The finals were hitting them all hard and technically Steve should have been at home now, cramming for his History of Art test, but well….

As he was sitting in his apartment, he got to thinking about finally needing to order a couple of Christmas presents and then about last Christmas and splitting up with Peggy and then the gorgeous guy he kept seeing in the lecture hall and who Peggy managed to overhear one time worked as a barista in this little café in the city centre and one thing led to another and suddenly Steve was out of the door, on his way to get coffee, not even realising that he didn’t like drinking coffee and that what he was doing could technically be considered stalking.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,” came from the speaker right above his head as the queue moved a little and Steve found himself a little closer to the object of his late night sketches.

He never quite managed to get the shape of his mouth before, not on paper and not even on his touch pad. For some reason there was something tricky about the fullness of the lower and the curve of the upper lip. Not that he had much of an opportunity for studying the barista’s lips before.

Suddenly, Steve found himself impatient for the line to move faster and for him to get a better look at the nametag of the guy. It didn’t feel right calling him The Barista in his head or on his drawings. The strap of the laptop bag was also getting heavier and heavier by the minute, digging into the sensitive skin of his scrawny shoulder and Steve couldn’t for the life of him remember why he decided that taking it with him would be a good idea. He couldn’t have thought that he’d get any studying done with the Christmas songs coming out of the speakers and all of the loud shoppers clamouring all over one another, trying to advice each other on where to buy the best geese and wool for sock knitting. At least, that’s what the two ladies in the corner were doing.

No, there was no way that Steve could manage to study the fine nuances of Caravaggio and Artemisia Gentileschi here…

“I said: next!” came from a little ways to the right and Steve jumped up as he realised that it was finally his turn and that he was holding up the queue.

“Bucky!” was the next thing his brain decided would be a smart thing to say as he stepped in front of the barista and stared at his mouth and his nametag.

It was quite something else to be drawing the eyes and staring straight into them, it gave Steve a completely different feeling and somehow the notion of attempting the line with the “smoking hot looks” didn’t seem quite so feasible now; even if the annoyed look seemed to have left Bucky’s face and the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Yes, that’s my name,” said Bucky and his voice sounded just like the café smelled, simply delicious. “And what can I get you?”

“Er-“ said Steve and he could practically feel the annoyance radiating off the guy behind him. He definitely didn’t have enough money for the Late and maybe not even the espresso and he couldn’t seem to remember what he had decided to order all the while back when he had joined Bucky’s line and Bucky was standing right on the other side of the counter, looking at him with his brown eyes and his cheekbones and his lips and…

“Everybody loves somebody – sometimes,” sang Frank Sinatra from the speakers and Steve couldn’t believe it. There was no way this could have appeared more as a scene from a bad rom-com if a seven-year-old high on sugar and soda wrote it.

“Nice song,” Bucky commented as a slow smile spread across his lips. “So what will it be, Steve?”

“Er- well- I,” Steve stammered. “I’ll have a Diet Coke, if you’ve got any.”

One of Bucky’s perfect eyebrows arched a little as he grinned some more.

“We’ve got quite a few,” he said as he pointed at a fridge with several shelves of cans and glass bottles filled with various liquids right by the entrance door. Steve blushed.

“Diet Coke’s $0.99 a can. Will you be having it here, or to go, sir?” Bucky asked as he grinned at him and Steve wished he had just ordered the espresso or better yet, stayed at home.

This had not gone how he had imagined it at all, not that he took much time to imagine this particular part of the conversation anyway.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he put a one dollar bill on the counter and made his way through the throng of people back to the door and the fridge.

“Any time, Steve!” he heard Bucky call after him as he again, rearranged the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder and set out through the cold streets back to his apartment.

It was when he felt the cold soda can freeze his left hand a little that he realised that Bucky had known his name.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at his Diet Coke.

That “having it here, or to go”, was that Bucky flirting with him?!

Steve could hardly feel the palm of his left hand anymore but for some reason he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he tossed his Diet Coke into his right hand and upon catching it kissed the cool metal and grinned at the red head who gave him a strange look.

Steve was pretty sure the strange feeling in his chest had nothing to do with the coughing fit he felt approaching. Bucky had taken the time to find out his name and Steve was reasonably sure he would be able to draw his smile to perfection tonight and if he wasn’t absolutely certain about the exact shading of his eyes there was no reason why he couldn’t make another trip to the coffee shop sometime later in the week.

Or tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow sounded much better.

“Something in your eyes just told me, my someplace is here,” Steve sang quietly to his Diet Coke as he skipped over a Pringles can and grinned like an idiot.

The laptop bag didn’t feel quite so heavy now.


End file.
